Wow, so that wasn’t quite as bad as I expected. I suppose because I wrote it in 2002, things have changed so much since then. I mean. looking at who read Boys, Boys, Boys, Boys, Boys, in so-far as who was in it, *IV said it was the sexiest thing he’d ever read, although, you know, that was after we’d had sex another time. The ex boyfriend (you know, of all of those ex boyfriends that I’ve had) has read it, but didn’t comment, surprisingly enough, for all the speaking out that he ever did when we were together and afterwards.

I had other things to say. I had photos in my flickr account to link to. I would have talked about how my new home project was Lisa and I watching Firefly at home. I would have talked about a buttload of social events that I’ve been to with the Wellingtonista, partially revolving around the Wellingtonista Quiz League and partly with awesome fresh fish at the Port Cafe last Friday, and oh, you know what? Whatever. Maybe I’ll post tomorrow or maybe I won’t. But hurray for Robyn, and now things will be awesome. Oh, and hopefully there’ll be new Hubris as soon as Heather can do it!

The sex I used to have made me feel like a bystander in my own life. He would move my legs around, hoist them over his shoulder, turn me on my side, or whatever he wanted, and I would lie there compliant, thinking “it’s not him”. It was only when he went to hold my hand afterwards that I felt that something was wrong. I am not in love with you, please don’t try to force intimacy on me. I am fucking you precisely because you are not him.

And it felt weird, someone different touching me in different ways, in different places. His cock was totally different, of course, and the feelings involved were different. It was easy to spell them out in this case: I am drunk, you are not him and I need to be with someone who’s not him to prove that I can be with someone who is not him. That could be the mantra of each thrust into me. I.am.not.the.man.you.are.in.love.with.I.am.not.your.whole.world.I.have.not.left.you.for.your.best friend.

So it doesn’t matter that he seems like he is a sexual deviant. It doesn’t matter that he rejoices in my hairy legs that he takes the time to rub his cock up and down. It doesn’t matter when he licks my armpits, or tries to fuck me in the morning when he’s still wearing the same condom. He is no one. He is nothing. It doesn’t matter.

I’m not sure of the words we said to each other or anything, only the look that he gave me; the single dirtiest look in the history of one night stands EVER. It wasn’t a “I want to fuck you” look; it was a “I’m going to fuck you in this position and this position and this position, and you’re going to love it, because you’re a dirty whore and you want nothing but my cock inside you” statement. And of course he was right.

If only it could have been simply that simple. He was a mystery, a boy of extreme contrasts. He was sweet and charming in conversation, but he had my clothes off the second we got in his bedroom door. He didn’t call a taxi as soon as I said I’d go home with him because he said that would be presumptuous, but straight away on his bed he told me he had a treat for me and rolled on a spearmint condom. For a nice guy who told me that he hadn’t had sex outside a relationship before, he still managed to fuck me in half a dozen positions, transitioning seamlessly between them. He played me Jeff Buckley, and then a song he wrote named after a girl with the same name as me, but also wanted to fuck me in the ass.

That’s the first time, of course. The second time is a year later, when he’s had a chance to get back together with his ex girlfriend and then break up with her again, and I’ve had a chance to realize that running out while he was sleeping because I thought I was in love with someone else and terrified of developing intimacy with him and using the excuse of not having a Connection was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. There were two beers each in a pub, conversation where we talked about our families and how bad Sex in the City was, and we really seemed to be on the same page. I was able to say that I wished I had got to know him the year before, and he smiled at me. It felt really nice, but I was still completely surprised when he said “How about I come over to your house later with a bottle of wine?”

Then when he kissed me on the street outside, my legs felt like they were going to buckle underneath me and I ended up walking down the street in a total daze. At home later, I watched videos with my flatmate in an attempt to keep calm – after I’d changed my underwear, of course. He arrived, shyly knocking on the front door, we opened the promised wine. My flatmate stealthily retreated as soon as the movie ended, and him and I were left together on the couch. So, alone, not at a party, or a bar, or a cafe or any of the places I’d seen him since we went to bed. Over the course of the conversation, my legs crept up onto the couch so that our knees were touching. Our tastes in music were dissected to find places where we were compatible. And finally, we put our glasses down on the ground and he took my hand and we kissed again, this time for much longer than the pavement encounter earlier that night.

If I had melted into him at that very moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been on my mind in various guises for a year – first in sweet nostalgia, and then in regret for leaving, and then in “I WANT HIM AGAIN NOW” capacity.

I wasn’t talking to her. He wasn’t talking to me for that reason, and it all stemmed from the same thing – good lovers making great enemies and best friends falling out over a boy and all the usual cliches. And there they were at the bar that I was at, and I’d been drinking beer, bubbly, and more beer. As soon as I saw them I sunk shots of Green Chartreuse to hide it, but it didn’t work, I still knew they were there. And why should they get to run me out of every bar in town? Plus, I’d run out of money for liquor and I knew that they had large bank balances. I stumbled over and plonked myself down in their line of vision. I was hot and knew it, after all. My boobs were on display for the entire world to see and it felt really nice.

I’m not sure who was more surprised – her or him. I guess we’ll say Her, because I did sometimes talk to him, even if he’d been ignoring me as of late. “Oh my god,” they said, “Joanna’s talking to us”. I suggested to them that they owed me a drink or two and she scampered off. More Corona with shots beside. I told them how no one liked me anymore. I was leaning forward to talk to them, my arm resting across his knees. They knew all the names that I was mentioning; they asked me over and over if I was okay, if I was really all right. They genuinely cared about me. I leaned forward more. She moved off to talk to other people and I took her seat. All of a sudden we were kissing each other with more fierce intensity than we’d felt in three years. Hands were all over each, in places that shouldn’t be in a nightclub. If it had been possible, we might have devoured each other whole. But instead, I was across his lap, whispering filthy things in his ear, rubbing his cock through his trousers in what I thought was a covert manner, promising him pleasures beyond what we’d ever experienced together before. I don’t know where his wife has gone, but really, it doesn’t matter as I follow him into the men’s room. He has me pinned to the wall and his hands are so rough in what inside my jeans that I have to tell him he’s hurting me as my top is dropped on the floor and my bra is pulled up. Our mouths are dissolving into one another, his hands are rough on my breasts and all I can do is tell him how much I want to fuck him. Always responsible, he asks me if I have any condoms, but of course, my bag and my jacket are somewhere back out in the bar, stashed under the seat where we first started getting dirty, and so that’s a no.

He has a solution for this of course, and he shoves my head down to his crotch, telling me to suck his cock. I do this gladly, reaching into his jeans like I’ve done a million times before. I want to show him how good I am, how much better I’ve become since he left me, and why he never should have left me. I do the best I can, and it’s not long before the pre-come is dribbling into my mouth, the salty taste turning me on instead of grossing me out. The fact that we’re in this barren concrete space makes the whole experience that much hotter. This is illicit near-fucking, and my god that’s a turn-on. His hands are on my head, pushing back my hair to secure his view and to make sure I don’t move my mouth away. I can taste his tang and it’s all I want for now, all that I could ever want, but there’s a knocking at the door, and he says that it’s her – his wife.

1. Patti Smith: ‘Free Money’
This song should be on every mixtape ever made, it?s just that awesome. My number one fantasy until recently has been based around sitting on someone?s floor while they play me all their favourite records which would definitely include this from Horses. But then I decided to stop waiting for the fantasy and to just buy my own bloody record player.

2. The Dead Souls: ‘One More Little Death’
“Oh yeah Jo, we all know why you put this track on”.
“Shut up, voice in my head. I really like this song”.

3. Liz Phair: ‘Fuck and Run’
When I started ninth grade, the American school I was at had a Big Brother/Big Sister programme in place. I’d circled that I didn’t want either a big brother or a big sister, and had listed ‘Grunge/alternative/weirdo music’ as my interest in life, which meant that I got matched up with one Brittany Tobiason, who wrote me a letter going “you seem about as interested in this as me, so how about we team up?”. It was 1994, and Brittany was from SEATTLE. She was basically God to me, the way she wrote lines of poetry on her cigarettes, drank rum from a Superman drink bottle and discussed philosophy over endless cups of coffee. She also made me my first ever mixtape called Jerry, which introduced me to many bands that would be incredibly important to my development, like Liz Phair, and PJ Harvey and Hole. Brittany was so fucking awesome.

4. American Music Club: ‘Last Harbour’
I once received a 23 page letter from someone who reads Hubris who’d emailed to say that since he read my site every day and it made him feel happy he wanted to send me a present for my 21st. Some people would go “freeeeeaaaaak” in reply to that, but I said “hell yeah” and he included this song on one of the compilations he sent me.

5. Bright Eyes: ‘Lover I Don?t Have to Love’
As the divine Miss Fur said on NZM “It seems to win Joanna’s affections musically you need to include songs about sex… see Bright Eyes – Lover I Don’t Have to Love…” well, that?s what she did. I heart this song and while I am of course not a shiny Emo rockstar boy, I can relate somewhat.

6. Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood ‘Summer Wine’
All good mixtapes should have some auld-skool gem on it. That’s the rules. I remember singing this song on long long family car trips, and more recently I resurrected it for a compilation of summer songs I gave to everyone I was friends with that summer. I’m sorry if it puts Jessica Simpson in your head though.

7. Augie March: ‘Asleep in Perfection’
When my friend Annabel had to borrow an episode of The Secret Life of Us that I’d taped off me, she made me a mix CD called Cherries in return. This waltzy song from the Australian band who were played on the show quite a lot ties it all together.

8. Ani DiFranco: ‘Soft Shoulder’
“I will say I have saved / every letter you ever wrote to me”.
I am a prolific letter-writer, but what I hate is that if it’s an actual pen and paper affair, you give it to someone when you’re giving them metaphorical pieces of your heart, and then you don’t get it back afterwards, when it turns out that the letter receivee totally wasn’t worth your words. I don’t think the boy who used to play me this song ever kept my letters. He made sure I had very few physical momentos of him as well. But you can read all about that in my zine 101 Stories That I Want to Tell You. Haha, advertising myself in linear notes. So classy.

9. The Cure: ‘Fascination Street’
Yeah, you’ve probably heard this one many times before, but have you ever heard it loud enough? I don?t think I have. This is one of those songs that needs to be turned up so loud that all you can do is drown in it ? and “move to the beat like you know that it’s over”. It gets to be included here because the man mentioned in #4 put it on a mixtape (an actual tape!) of songs about lust. Ahhh long distance impotency, how amusing you are.

10. PJ Harvey: ‘A Perfect Day, Elise’
The boy from #8 gave me Is This Desire? with a note taped to it saying “Yes!” and I thought that was the most romantic thing in the whole wide world ever. Then he left, and I lost this CD, and when PJ played the BDO she didn?t play anything off this album, and for a while I started to think that maybe it didn’t exist at all. But of course it does, and this song is so awesome that it makes me hold my breath while it’s playing, and then I get all light-headed and that makes the song even more awesome.

11. Fur Patrol: ‘The Lover’
This song is so underrated. I put it on a compilation of all my favourite Nu Zulland Music for someone a long way away, and they said they loved it too, and that’s good.

12. Big Star: ’13′
Phew! After all the intensity of most of the other tracks on this mix, I thought it’d be good to finish off with something incredibly sweet and simple. This came from a CD called Pimpu wa doko desuka? (Where are the pimps?) that arrived in my old work PO box, and I had no idea who the hell it was from for a long time, because it had someone’s real name on it, when I only thought of them by their online nickname. So there you go.

1. Everyone (who’s anyone) uses the phrase “jumped the shark” about TV shows, or sometimes bands, or just celebrities in general (for example “Milan totally jumped the shark when he let that groupie wear his hat right in front of me”). I’ve started to use it to describe friendships. Not cool.

2. I have seven sets of duvet covers (yellow, pink with gold, magenta & purple, brown & red retro, blue undersea, burgandy oriental brocade and brand new silver brocade) but only two sets of sheets – black and lime green, and four single duvet covers, including my New Mexico-ish Ralph Lauren cover that I got when I first moved to Japan, which we had to specially order and cost like $400 (shoosh. We paid $150 for an Xmas tree once…)

3. I have real problems with trust and jealousy – and given my background, I’m really not surprised.

4. The reason I hate being called a blogger is because I’ve been doing this for EIGHT FUCKING YEARS motherfuckers, when that word wasn’t even a glint in anyone’s eye, and why the fuck do all these newbie people get the attention and book deals and why aren’t I famous yet?

5. I made Anji and Sebastian worm themselves this weekend right along with me. My next guess is that I have haemarroids. Of course my reason for thinking this has absolutely nothing to do with an advertorial in the local rag of course…

6. I’d really like to have a cock to fuck Jessica Simpson with. This is not a “lesbian sex doesn’t count compared to hetrosexual sex” blah blah blah crap, it’s just that dude, she’s so horrible but there’s something about her that makes me want to fuck her ass and mouth.

7. I no longer talk to anyone I’ve had sex with (this would probably be an advantage if I fucked Jessica). There’s only a couple of people on that list that I wish were still in my life. Others I miss when I think of jokes that only they would get.

8. I am secretly impressed with how much pus I can squeeze out of my various pimples and assorted other bumps.

9. I am terrified of people liking my online persona and then meeting me in real life and going “wow, she’s just not real at all” and disliking me.

10. Often I think that I will spend the rest of my life without ever hearing anyone say that they love me again.

11. I find the idea of being a housewife in the 1950s strangely appealing.

12. Half the reason that I want to be a music writer is that I have a fantasy of having a musician fall head over heels in love with me and write songs about me.

13. There’s this one song on this one CD by this one guy that makes me go huh, but I’d be too scared to lose it if I did ever find out that it wasn’t actually about me.

14. If I had an infinite amount of money to spend on a car, I like to think that I’d still just buy something like a prius. Or maybe an oldskool convertible. But definitely nothing too ridiculously expensive and/or evil.

15. If I was cloned, I’d probably be friends with me, but I might think that I was too needy and/or insecure. I’d probably have sex with me though, if I got myself drunk and came on to me first.

16. I feel like I have a decent enough grasp of the English language that I don’t feel bad about twisting it to better suit my purposes.

17. When I was under five or so, whenever I counted to 20, I would generally forget the number 17. Spazz.

18. I can’t get a credit card for another four years because I didn’t pay my car registration fee.

19. I often prefer Latinish type beers, like Amarca, Corona and San Miguel, but I’ll drink pretty much any kind, except for Lion Red.

20. I plan a lot of funerals in my head – not just mine, but those of an assortment of people I know. I think about what I’d wear, what I’d say in the eulogy, what we’d serve at the wake and how I’d spend my inheritance.

For a nice guy who told me that he hadn’t had sex outside a relationship before, he still managed to fuck me in half a dozen positions, transitioning seamlessly between them.

Yeah! This is going to be fun. Plus this way I get to pretend that I’m still hot and desirable instead of sitting around wearing old jeans in desperate need of a decent haircut and some proper shampoo.

So, Jo’s life as of November 25th. Well. Still searching for the perfect job. Still not sure how she’s going to pay the bills. Still questioning the meaning of life. Making sure she takes her pills regularly every morning and never lets doctor&pharmacys fuck her around again so she ends up going ten days without them.

Other than that, what ho? Hmmmm. Sebastian went AWOL for eight days, causing me no end of worry. I pashed a hot boy who looked like he was from The Strokes, but he was British, and British boys NEVER come home with me. I don’t know what’s up with them. What’s up with you Brits eh? Are you all prudes? (Actually he had a girlfriend. Whoops). I need two flatmates. I moved my bedroom furniture around. I may move the lounge furniture around although now that La’s gone I no longer have a willing helper monkey. And that’s it. That’s all that’s happened to me in the past shit, nearly two months. Fuck.

So it doesn’t matter that he seems like he is a sexual deviant. It doesn’t matter that he rejoices in my hairy legs that he takes the time to rub his cock up and down. It doesn’t matter when he licks my armpits, or tries to fuck me in the morning when he’s still wearing the same condom. He is no one. He is nothing. It doesn’t matter.

I don’t have new things going on in my life which is kind of a problem given that I need constant stimulation to keep me going. I feel very out of the loop now that I no longer receive free movie tickets and cds. I haven’t left the house in ummmm two weeks to go anywhere but the shops. No work and no play makes Jo a dull girl. No work and no play makes Jo a dull girl. No work and no play makes Jo a dull girl. You get the general idea. So right now I’m trying to correct that, in the sense of downloading free mp3s from NZm to see if I can find a great new NZ band I can love and hopefully I’m going to a show tomorrow night. Must. get. out. of. the. house. Of course, all donations of mix cds, tapes, old books and magazines will be most gratefully accepted.

I also should be creating more than I am. Maybe I oughta do my portfolio site. In fact, there’s absolutely no maybe about that at all. A few more job applications wouldn’t go astray either. I’m bloody sick of rejection letters though. If only the dole paid about $50 a week more – or my flatmates were able to cough up for their bills instantly – life would be so much sweeter. I could go out! I could do things! Oh yeah, did I mention that my car is totally dead? That kinda sucks some ass too.

What I need I think is a makeover. Maybe the Fab Five could come over and laugh at my clothes (“you have HOW MANY bonds tshirts? and they’re all tight on your nipples like that?” “What are these shoes? Silver plastic? Are you from the Jetsons?” “Christmas lights? Tack city! And what’s with all the saris?”) and change my life. Already half the time I think I have Joss Whedon doing commentary over my life (“And in this scene, Jo’s watching TV. Again. The empty dishes piled at her feet adn the newspaper opened to the ‘Situations Vacant’ are there to really drive home the loneliness she’s feeling, while soon the demons she’s battling will come back cos we’ve cut off her cipramil”). I think maybe instead I need less TV in my life. But Heather Havrilesky is the best thing about Salon, and if I never watched TV again, how would I know what she was talking about?

His hands are on my head, pushing back my head to secure his view and to make sure I don’t move my mouth away. I can taste his tang and it’s all I want for now, all that I could ever want, but there’s a knocking at the door, and he says that it’s her.

Oh yeah, crack out the porn, Jo. I do think that I’d probably have a good career in Erotica writing. I just need to get me a laptop so I can be more savvy about it. How exactly does one become an Erotica Writer? Or rather, a Writer of Erotica Who Makes a Living out of it? Perhaps even An Erotica Writer With A Shiny Laptop AND an Aeron Chair? An Erotica Writer with a Shiny Laptop and an Aeron Chair Who Can Afford to go see Her Hairdresser Again And Fill Said Hairdresser With Accumulated Scandals and Gossip, And Who Can Also Find Another Pair of $30 Jeans from Farmers That Fit All Lovely Except That Now They Have Big Thigh Holes And Are Thus Rendered Useless. Yeah, that’d be sweet.

PS: my hubris mail went down for a couple’o days, so if you emailed me and didn’t get a reply, try again. Cheers.

The Fuller Schbobble:
Well! Where do we start? When I last updated, we were going to have the Meet Market party and I was inviting you all. None of you showed. How rude. This led to me shagging one of Lance’s young friends, because Lance made the deliberate mistake of leaving us alone together very late at night adn I was bored of talking to the guy about how miserable he was without his girlfriend. I thought he needed some cheering up. I think it worked. He said “I’ve never had it like that before”. I laughed lots. In the morning, he asked me for my cellphone number. I was like “What? Why?” and then instantly felt mean. Lance has managed to refrain from hassling him since. The boy comes into the office sometimes to buy bus tickets but avoids looking in my direction, poor wee thing.

Later that week, I had a drink with a boy who, let’s face it, I’ve had a thing for ever since I realised that running away while he was sleeping was the stupidest thing I did last year. He was absolutely lovely, and we were getting on so damn well, swapping life stories and talking about how much we hated ‘Sex in the City’ and how totally empowering it wasn’t, and he said that sometimes you sleep with people just because you want to, and I said that sometimes you sleep with people because they give you the dirtiest sexiest look you ever received in your whole life “which is why I went home with you” and he laughed. I told him that I wished that I’d got to know him last year. Eventually he had to go, but he asked if I wanted to hang out later that night, and suggested that he should come over to my house and bring a bottle of wine. I think my jaw just about dropped off, and then when he kissed me outside the pub on Ponsonby Road, my knees went woozy. Luckily KateH picked me up then, otherwise I would have been wandering around all dazed for a couple more hours, no doubt. He came over a couple of hours later, and well, I was two hours late for work the next day. It was lovely, so much more intimate than the last time – I guess because this time I fancied him, and wasn’t in love with someone else/terrified of being hurt again, and because well, I think he’d learnt a whole lot about foreplay in the past year. I called him delicious and beautiful and both things were applicable, in the slightly more metaphorical sense of the word for ‘Delicious’. He called me a star, and now he has left the country. Sigh. I’m sure that in a parallel dimension, we have our timing right and everything is blissful. Damn you Parallel Dimension Joanna! Why do you get all the good things?

Of course, then my period was late. And later. And later. And then I found a broken condom under the bed. I was incredibly freaked out and spent an hour sitting on the floor at work semi under my desk crying. The lady at the health clinic here at work said that a test wouldn’t be accurate for like, three weeks after the event, but I went and bought the cheapest test in the supermarket anyways. When it came out negative, I got drunk. A week later I did another test, and it was still negative. I alternated between thinking about abortion and thinking about raising the baby. Of course, I didn’t know if it was Andrew’s or Ben’s, but I thought there was more of a chance of it being Ben’s, which is what I would have prefered, but I didn’t want to mess up the life of either of them, and I was all like “arrrgh” until eventually I decided that yes, I actually would be able to deal just fine with having a baby, and I could work from home four days a week and come in for one, but finally when I got to Wellington and managed to unstress about work, I got my bleed. And it hasn’t stopped since.

So yes, that was the sex. When I got to Wellington a week and a bit ago, Mum asked me about my sex life, so I told her, asking her to please not tell Anji that I gave my ex boyfriend a blowjob in the bathroom at Submission, because I’d get a fearsome telling off. Mum said “At least someone has morals”. Later, when we were getting our family portraits, she said to me “oh they told me that you don’t need to wear more makeup than usual for the photos”. I was like “umm, this is what I wear every day”. Mothers eh? Bless. If she doesn’t want to KNOW, she shouldn’t ASK. That’s all.

I also caught up with KateB in Welly which was lovely and made me feel more like a real person again. I think she’s doing really well, and has found something that suits her much better. I do worry though that her b/f doesn’t like pirate jokes. Other Welly things were finally getting some sleep, doing more reviews for the magazine which I’d rushed to finish all in one week instead of the usual two, and Oma taking us out to Logan Brown, which was amaaaaaaaazing food, and the most professional service I’ve had in a very long time. Exquisite. And not cheap at all.

Then on last Tuesday, Karen and I drove up to Napier. It was a pleasant journey, mostly. We found a nice enough backpackers to stay in – its failing was that there were no windows in the room, which made it very spooky to be called on your cellphone when the lights were off and you had no idea what the time was and wondered why the fuck your work was calling you in the middle of the night when it was actually 8.46am. Napier itself was very nice. We wandered around places and found a lovely bar called The UltraLounge. My Pina Colada had no taste at all, so I tried to explain that as nicely as I could to the barman and he made me an orgasmically good Mango Daquiri instead. We had seconds. Then I squirmed in discomfort as a loud British wanker ate all his sashimi and then complained about it. I hope I wasn’t like that man.

On the Wednesday, we went with The Grape Escape and got driven to some wineyards. Seven in fact – apparently this makes us legends, because that was in four hours, including lunch with The Best Cheese in the World at the Sileni Estate. The usual is four or five. We stayed another night in Napier, and went to Havelock North the next day, and also I made Karen go to Ocean Beach with me. It was fun. I frolicked in the sand. That night we stayed in Hastings at a Carnie backpackers and opened Macademia nuts with a big rock. I managed to buy four bottles of wine – a Trinity Hills Pinot Noir, a Mission Estate Reisling, a Brooklands Deco Chardonnay and a Te Mata Estate Rose as well as a bottle of Sour Apple Schnapps from Prenzels. No wonder the phone line got cut off back in Auckland. The guy at Brooklands was teh best, telling us long stories. Was it Brooklands? I hope it was. I will check my wine when I get back. Other people were too wanky or busy or what have you. Prenzels is the best because you can try whatever you want and I wanted to try everything. Mmmmmmmmm.

Now I am back in Auckland of course, and work is not as hectic as it has been, which is nice. I’m sad that Issue 10′s cover was lacking in our actual coverstories and that my Pacifier story didn’t get a title, but that’s my fault for not leaving clearer instructions for Designer Brad. Tomorrow I have schedualed an appointment with myself to sit down and discuss what I want to submit for the media awards. One of these days I’ll actually do the accounts for advertising sales too, but the girl who does all our invoicing said (in exchange for me scanning photos for her) “Please don’t do them until I’m ready for them”. Yay her. I’m going to Wellington again in less than two weeks for the ASPA conference. Excellent. And what else? Blah stuff, nothing too important.

We have a new flatmate in the very charming shape of Will, an American friend of Megan’s. We still need one more though.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten to say things, but really, this has gone on for hours now, so I might stop this entry here for now.

Chains of events have been kicked into place by chance sightings and lots of shots to cover the shock. The world travels around in circles eventually. Blow jobs heal all wounds? Not quite but hey, the free liquor sure is nice. HA! You don’t know what I’m talking about now do you? Or maybe you do, in which case, why do you need to read my journal anyways? There’s a reason why I drive a beige car and it’s for its inconspicuousisity. Actually that’s a lie – I drive a beige car because that’s what was found for me. But it’s not like a pair of silver shoes sighted under a toilet door. Tehehe.

And I don’t even need to mention the fact that I KNOW that I made up words in the last paragraph do I? Unlike Jez’s flatmate who said that he was “insuccessful” at something and wondered why I laughed so hard. Jez is gone now, like Ammy, lured away by the demon OE. Circle of Life continues. Tides ebb and flow. Dear god now I sound like a fucking hippy.

We’re having a Meet Market party on Friday. I want lots of random people to come because that would be amusing. If you live in Auckland, email me and I will give you the address. Chances are it may just be handfuls of us because Darren hasn’t got around to doing the invites yet, slacker.

Work is stupid right now. I am unable to articulate myself clearly. Things are up in the air. I dreamt about my workmates – we were organising the Onslow School Fair. How depressing.

My flat is once again got a vacancy. I need to pay the bills before everything gets cut off. Dammit, maybe I should try to kick this crack rock addiction once and for all. Or maybe not. Placebo are playing Auckland on Saturday and I can’t afford to go, but I’d already decided not to anyways. Fancy me actually paying for something. Scandel. Hehehe my receptionist described me as scandalous. Actually so did Allison.

I did a day and a half first aid course so now I can do CPR and all that good stuff. It made me scared of everyone else’s mortality though. Also it really bugged me because we were taught that it’s really not a good idea to give CPR to someone without a barrier, and the instructor said that there was no way in hell that he’d do it, but hello, if you’ve ever kissed a stranger (and if you look at the stats page in my zine, you’d know taht I’ve kissed one or two. Oh no wait, that page was just the people i fucked the first time i met them, kissing rates may be even higher. Let me analyse. Hmmm. Actually, there’s only about two people that i kissed the first time I met them who didn’t get to at least third base, so disregard) that’s for FUN, and yet you wouldn’t do something similar to save someone’s life? I’d like to think that I jolly well would. Otherwise what’s teh point in being loose?

I might just save and upload this now before I get too bored. I’m sorry, I don’t really have much to say. I had the mother of all bawling sessions on Sunday night, which gave me a thoroughly good pipe cleaning. There has been A LOT going on in my head lately. It gets a little complicated sometimes being me. Then again, I’m also sure that sometimes it’s complicated being you too.

Oh and COUS! Happy birthday for a couple’o days ago and email me, you runnerawayer you!

“The day before Parliament is set to hold a conscience vote on the Prostitution Reform Bill, the Herald runs a front-page story about a convicted rapist visiting a brothel. This isn’t news. The story isn’t about police catching Michael John Carroll red handed committing another crime (remember that under the double-standard current law, prostitution isn’t actually illegal, just solicitation). This isn’t a serious debate about whether or not he should have been paroled. The story is just an absolutely sickening editorial attempt to sway the vote away from law reform. By linking sex work with rapists, the story intends to imply that sex workers are entirely responsible for the moral decline of society. The front-page placement of the article, despite its lack of newsworthiness (it happened “some time”, not yesterday), clearly demonstrates the editorial position the Herald has taken on attempts at law reform. If prostitution remains illegal, the Herald will have more opportunities to publish those “12 year olds sell themselves for a can of corned beef” moral panic stories that it so dearly loves. Heaven forbid that such a conservative paper should actually support a bill that would improve people’s lives instead of scare mongering to raise sales.” 200 words only

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So it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, when did you last hear from me and what did I say then? Ahh June 12, the night before my birthday party. That was a jolly good night, with people dressed in bear costumes (!), much gossip and scandel and me lusting after not one but two gentlemen. I had so many friends there, I wasn’t able to talk to anyone really. That was a shame. Oh well, a good time was had by all, except for Kara, but really, why is that such a suprise? It’s not. The following Tuesday (the 17th) I had my dinner at Canton, and that was lovely dovely, except for losing my wallet and feeling like no one cared about that fact. It was found later, and of course people cared, as I am constantly reminded.Yes, people care about me, I get that. I just feel really isolated a lot lately, and have discovered that it’s far more convinient and possibly a little more mature to push bottle caps into your arm so that they leave marks for a couple of days rather than scarring up with hot knives in hidden places. I’ve been questioning my current meds a little bit too because I feel sometimes like I’m at the stage where I can’t be bothered with people at all (re: Clayton being upset at Kara’s storming off at my party), while at the same time I’m feeling lonely and scared and freaked out. I guess it’s just generally weird when you hear Live on the radio or get books about monkeys and it brings to mind “You took advantage of me. I don’t know why I bother with you”.

It’s not all that though, there’s also gigglestyles at boys in bands who I saw play on Saturday at the Kings Arms for the ‘Here Come The Bulletholes’ release party who I have crushes on and I get to email them and say that they look sexy on stage. And then there’s that I got to talk to Tom McRae last week (thank you soooooo much darling!) and he was absolutely lovely. English people should be banned from saying “erm” instead of “um” because it’s just SO DAMN CUTE. I sounded like a fawning sycophant in the interview, but oh well. How could I help but be anything but?

I’d like to think that Iva has settled well into our flat although I’m sure she finds my disappearing chequebook a little annoying. Our computers are intemittently networked, so I can access her huge amounts of TV and movies. Oh how in love with Bernard Black I am! In other flat gossip, I’m incredibly pissed off with Johnny for buggering off to Queenstown without paying his rent, leaving me almost literally penniless and unable to purchase tampons or painkillers. GRRRRRRRRRRR. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Daniel is coming out of his shell more and more, and although Lance’s fetish for bringing home white picket fence pailings is more than a little disturbing, I adore him, he’s very fun.

Other things going on in my life right now? I think my Masterplan is never going to come to fruition. I’m annoyed with my failing lack of ambition, and the fact that I just churn out shit at work – when I’m doing anything at all, that is. It’s more than a little disconcerting to think of all the people I told about my brilliant idea, and how supportive they all are, to know that that’s going to be swept away in a tide of self pity and bleakness. I think that it’s probably quite likely that I should be going back into counselling (so.much.anger), but the prospect of starting all over again is more than a little daunting.

I miss having people love me. Even if I don’t deserve the love – but surely everyone deserves love? I know this entry is more than a little pukefest, but just like Bobby Brown, that’s my prerogative. There were so many more narratives that I meant to include but have forgotten. Probalby something to do with vidoes. I watched ‘S.F.W’ which I fucking worshiped when I was 15 (people fucking to “Teenage Whore”, Stephen Dorff walking in slow motion through a mall to “Creep” – what’s not to like? Oh, and Amber Benson is in it! I adore Tara. Oh Buffy, how can you be coming to an end so soon?), and it made me feel very nostalgic for a time when I thought I had the right to be “angry at the system, maaaan”. I have no idea what the hell I thought was oppressing me back then, but I want it back. I wanna jump up and down and scream “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” in the mud again. But instead, I will just watch more videos and cry in joy at the end of “It’s a wonderful life”. Is this growing old? I guess so. Shit, I’m 23 now. Time to call out the knackers.

I’m wearing new Napolean mascara Karen sent me (although it’s weird – mascara? rather than eye shadow or lipgloss what I asked for? Surprises are cool.) and I feel like it’s making me open my eyes extra extra wide. That’s no bad thing.

I could be at True Colours right now, but I couldn’t be bothered, so I gave my ticket to Darren. Easy come, easy go. Has a year rolled around already since the last one? This time last year I was also hungover, but I would have been cheering at Pacifier and feeling weird and freshly fucked. A year. You’d think things would change in that time, and I guess they do. Because now I totally regret running out on *IV. Oh well, there’s only so much trying again that you can try. Second chances blah blah blah. At least the boy that I hit on something shocking last week which I can’t remember doing was nice enough to email me afterwards.

Other things? Liquor, of course. I was waiting in line for the bathroom at Spaquers last night (Lance and I were on our way home from Verboten but we thought we’d just pop in and say hi to Johnny – cue us staying for over an hour, dancing to house music and running up $40 somehow on Johnny’s tab without asking for anything) and this guy started talking to me, and he was very friendly and then he asked me my name and thought I was offended by that, and then he told me his and then I went to pee, and realised that he was a semi famous actor (ie – was on Shortland St) who everyone who reads this has probably seen having his head cut off, and that the reason that I didn’t recognise him is that the actor is rather gay and this fellow seemed to have been hitting on me. Celebrity!

Today Darren and Lance laughed at me a lot when I was dragged out of bed to feed Sebastian (he got biscuits instead’o jellymeat cos I wasn’t feeling up to it) and threw up in the shower for a while. Then KateH came over and we went to see ‘The Lizzie Mcguire Movie’, which is a Disney flick aimed at 10 year old girls. We got free coke and ice cream though, bless. And she bought me potato chips. We had the song stuck in our heads for the whole car ride home, but thank god it’s gone now. Then it was back home for some more blessed sleep.

Ammy’s gone so we need another flatmate. Kelly was going to move in but she can’t afford to. We’re kinda fucked. I hate finding flatmates.

It’s my birthday soon. Please feel free to buy me pretty things like jewellary, knee socks, scarves, bright coloured eye shadow and lip gloss. I also need some knives, and a cat door. Thank you. In exchange, I will tell you that I saw Pluto play on Thursday and they were so fucking amazing, as per usual, and “8 O’Clock” nearly made me cry, as per usual, and I took a fuckload of photos what you can look at here.

So it’s been about a week or so, and during this time period, I have been drunk too often, at Quiz Night where I just about fell flat on my face walking out because of bad chair/carpet configurations and trying too hard to make a good impression, and then the next night with Nikki, bawling my eyes out on her shoulder which was good and cleansing, except that I hate that it makes me cry when she said that people love me too much to want to hurt me, as an explanation of how I was left out of the loop of major Dramas within my circle, and i HATE how I couldn’t have been there for anyone because I didn’t know, and I hate that people see me as being that being that much of an emotional screwball, and I know that they don’t really, and I guess I’m totally glad I never had to choose sides, but still, ugh, I hate that people I love so much had so much bad shit going on.

<!– And I hate that she whimpers in her sleep –>and I hate that I can’t fix the world, and I hate that I’m going to have to take steps to fix the parts of me that I’m utterly terrified of.

On up notes, I love that I bought a TV. And I love that when I was planning on staying at home on saturday night by myself drinking champagne alone and feeling morose by myself (how dare my friends be on holiday in welly, or living in other cities for their jobs or stricken with glandular fever or at reggae festivals in Raglan?) Darren rang up and so I had dinner with him and his friends and Jonny, and then we went to see his new studio, and it was cool, although I think I had a drunken slurred argument with him about whether or not Audioslave are shit (yes). And what else is there? Visits from special friends to look forward to, although it totally sets back my whole Taking Affirmative Action plan with someone. These are two letters that I want to write and send but I won’t:

Dear Boy A, Don’t you think that it’s a little strange that I started emailing you out of the blue? No? Good. But you shouldn’t interupt other people and go all excitedly “Oh, I’ve been emailing Jo!” if what you mean is “Oh yeah sometimes I reply and then other times, like when I get a group invitation to hang out with her at her workplace which quite obviously was just a lame set up excuse to get me to get her to have coffee with me, I won’t reply”. Jesus boy. I have excellent taste in music, and I don’t think I was too bad a fuck, and I’ve tracked you down and apologised to you for being a spaz. Take a fucking hint!

Okay, so those letters are crap and not at all eloquent or proper explainy, but they’re what’s rolling around and around in my head. Oh hush, I’ll write whatever I damn well want to write. After all, I am self absorbed. And vulgar.

Oh look, Jo’s talking real trivial issues, she must be feeling better!

And actually, I am. even if Cipramil leaves me with a dry mouth and totally inadequate orgasms and weird dizzy spells sometimes. Oh, plus I have a totally burnt thumb. But I suspect that has more to do with Guy Fawkes than any other mental affliction.

So where were we? We talked about the coffee, which sucked. I trained today to do the WebDev Guy’s job while he’s away on leave. He put a sign on our office door that has the Communications Administrator Job being done by a “Joanne” McLeod. Apparently this is his reaction to Bridget telling him off for spelling it “McCloud”. I was like “Skew, you just gave me all your passwords for the webserver, are you sure you wanna say bad things about me?”. I hope he knows I do actually like him, even if there is a little “friendly” tension between me and Terri’s replacement. I’m still infamous at work for doing so well at the quiz on Friday night, and of course for the Hula dance that went along with it.

I worked from 10-3pm today, serving at Skew’s leisure so that he could teach me before he gets all mad panicy, and then I went for my eye appointment, which is very heavily subsidized by my organisation, as long as I made it clear that I need glasses to operate my VDU. I made it very clear. The guy was all young and nice, being a final year Opotometry Student, and it turns out that my glasses are WAY TOO STRONG on my left side. He was nice but too close in some parts, and I felt like I was supposed to pash him, because really, that’s the only time you’re supposed to hear people breathing like that. And then we got to the room where to try on frames, and he put the first pair’o frames on me, and he was like “yeah, that’s so it” and we tried on lots more pairs, but he was right, the first pair really suited me, even though they were $300 frames, and we couldn’t find anything nice that was cheaper (“I have expensive tastes!”) plus when someone is so convinced that something looks that good on you, it’s hard to argue, isn’t it? I told him off during my (incredibly long) eye examination cos he kept laughing at me when I was so obviously wrong reading letters, and he was like “hey, it’s boring to be so clinical”. He also got an abridged version of my full medical history because he damn well asked for it, and yes, thank you, I appreciate why I’m having dizzy periods, and I’m paying $120 an hour to sort that out, and I appreciate that you’re taught to do this, but seriously, get back to writing me out a new glasses prescription. Thank you.

And then this evening there was Quiz, but when Clay and I got there, who was sitting outside but *IV (damn, I wish I was into full name disclosure styles, cos it’d sure as hell make things easier) and I was like umm “okay, I’ll go get the beer” because i am LAME and because he totally wouldn’t even look in my direction at Justin’s last party, and then KateH showed up, and eventually Peter (Hi peter, you’re choice even if you’re not scrawny in a tight tshirt anymore) and a friend of his, and that was our quiz team, although Bo and Leo put in an appearrence for a little. At one stage, I went out to the bathroom, and *IV was out having a cigarette, so I kicked his chair, and said hey, and said that he didn’t need to be afraid’o me cos I didn’t mean to cause trouble at all in any way. He said he was back with his g/f and I said that I knew that, and that was cool and I understood, and he was like, “but you were the first girl since her” and I said that he’d told me that at the time, and then I told a kinda lie and said that I was in love with the boy who’s party we’d hooked up at (a lie in that it wasn’t LOVE as such, but definitely some kinda big feelings) and he was like “what, Justin?” and I laughed my head off and I was like “don’t you remember – we were at a party in Herne Bay” and he was like “ooooh” and I said that he was quite probably the nicest boy I’d ever had sex with, and I’m sorry that I’d snobbed him the first time I saw him after we’d had sex but I hadn’t expected to see him again quite so soon, and he was like “I got a snub in the Hub” which was actually really funny and we were both like, mutal admiration for how cool each other was, and he said that he’d got the note I left him in his letterbox that said he was a total sweetheart, which is true, and he said I had great taste in music, and we had a laugh, and just parted on super terms. So that was lovely.

Meanwhile, back at Quiz. OH MY GOD! Okay, so every Tuesday, we call ourselves “The Slab” on account of it being our apartment name, right? Well, tonight not only were there “The SLAB” but there was “Peanut Slab” as another team, and also “FUCK THE SLAB” as a team name. ATTITUDE! Anyways, we won, and so that’s a $50 tab for us to drink next Monday when I’ve finished my first exam. No more Quiz nights at Vesbar anymore, at least not over summer. He took my number and said he’d call if he started working somewhere else, but Meh, I doubt that’s what I would like it to be, then him and me and KateH played with Sparklers in the Quad. It was pretty choice. ANd then I went up to Kelly and Rowena’s and we set off fireworks on their roof and I burnt my hand. I went home cos I was so drunk I could hardly stand up anymore, especially in the rain, and Kara and Clay and Bo and Leo were all watching Harry Potter, and there were Nachoes on the stove, so I was stoked, and that was cool, except, my god, maybe kids have mucher longer attention spans than I do, cos I so could not be bothered concentrating, so after an hour and a half, I headed off here.

But doesn’t it make you happy? Look, Jo all conscious and stuff – and like, sure she’s drunk, but that just means that her OOS doesn’t hurt as much, and yes, I am, I am looking after myself, MUM. ANd soon, I will post you a rant about happiness, and also about Therapy. White MiddleClass Girl Angst etc. Love you all – well okay, that’s a lie. Love all of you who you know who you are, and care about some of the rest of you, and are glad some of you read me, adn would very much like some of the rest’o you to fuck off now please. Thank you. Xojo.

Reasons why I have a crush on the latest boy:

You still don’t fucking get it though, do you? Because I’ve had so much time to think about this, to figure it all out in my mind, to the point where everything becomes predictable, where I know what people are going to say before they say it, and where it’s almost like there’s no point in having conversations anymore. Why don’t you suprise me? Go on. I bet you can’t. See, that’s your problem maybe, your defeatist attitude. And I’m sorry if you think that I’m being unnecessarily harsh, so if it helps, maybe I’m not talking to YOU at all, I’m talking to someone else. How dare you think that you’re the centre of my universe at all, after all?

Last night, I went as KateH’s +1 to Salmonella Dub at the Saint James, but we were both pretty drunk before we met up, and then she said she could get me drinks on receipt, so I was like, well sure, so we just ended up sitting in the booths upstairs gossiping/yelling _with_ each other, not at each other, cos she’d had a bad day, and I had conspiracy theories running around in my head, and oh god, I just wanna say (and you know I sorted this out with you Katie, so this is not a diss) how can you people not be able to tell the difference between “so I met this guy last night and he was totally amazing and I felt really close to him and I so want to see him again” and “I shagged a boy last night – he was really nice but we had no connection”? Maybe my communication skills aren’t as good as I’d like to think that they are. I know y’all have my best interests at heart though and I love you for it. Too defensive my fucking ass.

Anyways, so we didn’t even see Salmonella Dub, though we heard them, and then KateH went to the B-Net afterparty, and I managed to blag my way in cos I wanted to spend more time with her. I have to say, the so called “cool” people of this world are actually really fucking boring. Then I went home and lay on the floor in the lounge for hours and hours watching Nine Inch Nails videos and then talking on the phone til almost 5am.

Today I got woken up by Penny calling at 10.30am, and so she came round around 1pm and we caught up on the St Pats Boys gossip from the CarnageMatakana party. Then Anji rang me with hot exciting gossip. Now I am going to have a shower and take my green folder and go to bed.

BUT! The purpose of this journal really is to let you know that I have finished my zine, “BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS” and I would like to trade it with you. Zines, yes, how retro 1993. Go to this page for more information, and yeah, that’ll be cool. Thank you!

Dammit, some slapper has just stolen my bathroom. Must go sort this out!

Okay, so before i fall out of my chair and pass out on the floor, here’s the story – here’s the correct deal that any’o you could have just got out of me by simply asking, and here’s my interpretation of what happened. You know how a couple’o days ago I cut Justin off my Xmas Card List (this is not an actual thing in existence, it’s purely a metaphorical creation)? And if you know that, you know it’s of course because he had drinks last friday and didn’t invite me, not even when I texted him that day and asked him waht he was up to and he didn’t reply and as both a Gemini and a Communications student, nothing pisses me off more than peoplke who don’t reply to txts? Well anyways, I heard from sources about his party, of course, because um, hi, do you know know by now that that’s the way girls work? But anyways. So I figured he hadn’t invited me to his party cos he thought I’d mack on all his friends (and so maybe there’s some degree of truth to that) and then when I found out that the last friend’o his that I shagged was back with his ex girlfriend that he was with before he shagged me (but not while he shagged me, nor for any immediate period before then, thank you very much) and I figured maybe Justin thought I’d like, embarrass that boy or something so he just wouldn’t invite me outta decency. And of course, there were also “maybe Justin just flat out hates me” thoughts but they didn’t last very long. But anyways, then tonight me and Maz and Bo were in the cab on the way to KateH’s party, and Maz was like “not to give you a complex or anything, Jo…” and she told me that Justin had been all hesitant to tell them that the boy was back with his ex and stuff, and they were all worried about telling me and I was all “WHAT THE FUCK???? If i had been after him in any way, I ouldn’t have left while he was sleeping plus I woulda put my number in the note I stuck in his letterbox after! AAAARGH I don’t fancy him, I just have a guilty conscience!” and Maz was liek “yeah that’s what we told Justin” and Iw as like aaaaaaaargh I don’t LIKE the boy, I just gave him a lotta mind time cos I thought he was a sweetie and I wondered if I shoulda got to know him better, and Maz and Bo were like “don’t do this, don’t get a complex” and I was like “i’m not!” but anyways, as soon as Justin showed up at the party I was liek “oi you! and I gave him an earfull and he was like “Ummm?” and said that what had actually happened was that when I sent him the text on friday, he actually received it while he was in a car with the boy in question and was like “oh, is it okay if I invite Jo tonight?” and the boy started freaking out and continued to do so for three days, cos like I think we first said, he’s just back with his girlfriend, and somehow I very much doubt that she knows about him fucking me like I was a pornstar in the middle of it. So yeah, Justin and I cleared all that up. I am a little hurt though, that they could think I’d be so unsubtle or anything like that to cause a ruckus – I’d only do that to people I don’t respect, and i do very much respect thsi boy, because like I’m sure I have said before, he was probably the nicest boy I’ve ever been to bed with, even if we didn’t actually have a Connection (and this is not a diss on you; I’m sure you wouldn’t call yourself ‘Nice’). And anyways, the boy ended up showing up at the party and I watched him in the hallway for a little bit, trying to be discreet in checking him out and thought “hmmm, he actually IS really cute and actually DOES look like Milan” and then later when I walked past him I said hey, and he said hey, and it was all cool. So yeah, that was the drama and scandel. did you manage to follow ANY of that? I don’t care if you didn’t; I’m quite happily quite stoned.

Today was 9-5 at work, which is always difficult, especially since Terri had started at 7am, which meant she left at 3pm, so Bridget and I were left going “ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” all afternoon. But I did do an interview AND write a profile today, plus now I can tell you all about the causes of hydronatraemia and who of you else can claim that? I also went to ask the HR lady about the job I’m applying for, and was liek “oh, right, good, I do have the right person – I’m terrible with names and faces”. Nice one Joanna, way to apply for PR jobs. Really, no, seriously, excellent way to influence people is by pointign out your foibles.

Hmm, foibles, does this mean that i have to talk about those godawful muppets taht I had to talk to for like half an hour who kept referring to me as a crackwhore cos Clay and Bobobo did? I hope not. In fact, I know not, cos like, I so would like to go and jump into bed where it’s real nice and warm. well actually, it’s probably cold in my bed, goddamit I need an army of flying monkeys to make me a hottie and find me some socks adn all taht stuff. Where were we? I’m just like, all OH MY GOD THERE’S BETH ORTON ON THIS MP3 cd. And that kinda thing. Something about Mazzy being hot in her hot little red dress even though sips of her bourbon remind me of *III, or even the massive quantities of bourbon I would drink with him because it was part’o the whole fucktoy/rockbottom process. And definately something about how fucking choice KateH is, and how she looked reaaaaaally hot and flamenco tonight, and also what a pleasure it was to finally meet this Amy that I’ve heard so much about. Ummm other things – like, who the fuck actually drinks Creaming Soda? And Jezza going on a massive hunt to find a lighter, and then us smoking around the picnic table in KateH’s backyard and me feeling unspeakably guilty for doing so, and then being back in her kitchen where I spent the night going “OH MY GOD” cos Like, everyone fucking knew my name and could tell me where they’d met me before and what conversation we’d had, and that always makes me real para, and then I spotted that boy in the hallway and I had to point him out to Clay and clay was like “he’s real cute and hot” and I was like oh my god please hurry up and come out and dump your girlfriend.

Dear lord, there should be some more paragraph segmentation here, surely. Other things’o note? Bopha kept calling em a crackwhore, and okay, so maybe the stripper story was case and point, but THAT’S IT. At the start’o KateH’s party, we just sat in a corner going “grrr” at each other and wondering what would happen if she went and sat on people’s laps and said “chicachehooo” at them. I love Bo. And umm, oh I talked to this boy that I’d thought was kinda ncie and well dressed and good looking and nice to me and laughs at my jokes and stuff so I’d kinda thought “hmm maybe” about, but it was too hard to sustain a conversation, and plus, I think I’d decided this week that I was really into this other boy and yeah, so like, that’d be cool and shit, except he was supposed to come but he didn’t. Still, I think that there was like, enough scandal and mania going on anyways, and you don’t even know the half of it. Also, my eyeshadow looks fuckign kickass today, as does the rest of me.

Okay man, like, $3.25 in coins and head to whomever brings me salted snacks first. It was just one joint, motherfucker! It shouldn’t show up under all this beer. Jezza and Nae are real funny when they’re stoned though. That’s all I have to say. Tomorrow I may or may not get a network and Sunday I gotta do coursework, so that’s ass sucking, but like, only figuratively and only on Sunday, cos like, how fucking 2000 are you?

I had a really random day yesterday, it was strange, but ended well, so all’s well that ends well, really. I have now managed to shake my bad mood, thanks probably entirely to the divine Ms. Hamlin (KATEH! heh). So yeah, day yesterday:

In the afternoon, after doing not much in the morning, I popped around to see KateM on my way to the supermarket, and made her get up. How cruel of me – it was only 3.45pm after all! And then I went to the supermarket, and found that Grower’s World has shut down or something, and it was all abandoned and I couldn’t get veges. Then there was a busker outside’o Foodtown playing a very bad rendition of “Lover, you should have come over” which made me remember a girl who mostly doesn’t remember me now, but it still made me smile. And then I laughed on the inside at the enchilladas in the deli case, until I worried that maybe people were giving me strange looks. It was so hot in the supermarket that I started spacing out, and I felt all funny, so as soon as I got home I shut myself up in my room so that I wouldn’t have to talk to Clayton. But later, I was out in the lounge, getting ready to watch The Goonies, and he came along and gave me big hugs and said I was a great person for putting away the dishes, and that he’d been feeling Meh too, so it was a nice bonding moment. I flicked through our flat bible, where random people write random things, and discovered that KateB generally writes “Snapshot Memories” in it the day after I’ve scored, so there were some interesting regressions. But I guess it makes sense, cos we’d be hungover and lying around unable to move, swapping stories, and that’s when she’s most likely to write. Anyways. At the back’o the Bible, there was a list of Dorks begun in early 2000, and also a list of people we give props to. The dorks included people like Dawson, and Brad’s old boss, and the girl who’d been grumpy in Global Sandwich, and the list of people we gave props to were generally flavour’o the moment celebrities, but also included on the list was Jason, which made me laugh cos obviously I’d had a crush on him when I first met him way back then. And if you know anything about the inner workings of our social circle, you’d find it funny too (Hi Jason, if you’re still reading).

Anyways, so yeah, like I said, weird things were amusing me, despite an overall feeling of Meh. I got to watch the Goonies though, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never stop loving Corey Feldman. Is it wrong to fancy a 14 year old boy? I’ve managed to outgrow finding Eddie Furlong in T2 attractive, but Corey is my forever. Then I was going to watch The Skulls, but luckily KateH rang and said that her plans had changed and did I feel like going out? Hmmmm… let’s see. So needless to say that I met up with her 20 minutes later. I wore a tiara out, because I am after all a princess, and I haven’t worn my tiara in a very long time. I met her at Caravan Serai where she was having dinner with her Disney friends, who are also in my class at school. They used the word “random” an awful lot, which was random to me since I was having a random day, and and and. Oh you get the picture. They went off to Globe, but Katie told me that i’d hate it, so we went to Deschlers instead, where we drank devine cocktails. Brad joined us a couple of hours later, which was very cool. I was talking about my pants, and he said they looked good on me, and just as I was about to go “aww thanks” he said “they’d look better on my floor in Whakatane” which I’d actually scripted for him in emails discussing me going down to visit him. Ha HA Hilarious. We bumped in Jason and Hamish which made me giggle quietly on the inside as well, cos’o the whole bible thing, and cos Hamish asked me if I was still hanging out at his old flat. And I got to meet Luke Casey and shake his hand! That was pretty exciting. Then Brad dropped me home and I found myself watching an Adam Sandler movie and actually laughing lots and lots, so maybe I was drunker than I thought. It was a really good night though, and it very much lifted my spirits.

Today I got up before noon to make sure I was clean and dressed by the time Maree and Brad showed up to see my rug. I gave Mazzy a copy of the last ever edition of the Evening Post, and also a first edition of the Dominion Post, and we went for ‘brunch’ at Box House. We sat outside cos it was sunny, but four hours later, my legs are still numb from the cold. Good food though. And then we went to Hamlin’s for Dawson’s, which was really boring. Yeah. Now I’m home, and I might find a duvet and watch The Breakfast Club, if our TV decides to be in colour, otherwise I will take Haruki Murakami to bed with me and be disappointed 20 times over cos I never like his endings and this is a book of short stories.

Also, i just noticed that my last webcam photo is of me with my mouth really really wide open cos I was belting out the dirty words in ‘Stagger Lee’ last night. Lovely.

Really fuckign nice random mp3 juxtaposition? ‘Morning Theft’ <!– !!! –> then PJ Harvey’s ‘Memphis’ which is a song about Jeff Buckley.

I had an exhausting day at work today, early start coupled with spending almost the entire day on the phone trying to get to talk to various media people about this huge thing we’re doing next week. Fuck I hate voicemail. After work, I had the best hair cut I’ve ever had, so consequently, I look drop dead sexy, except that it got rained on on the way home from the salon. But the lady told me amusing stories, and told me she’d get “real angus” about stuff that I related to her, so I’m definately incorporating that into my vocabulary.

In the evening, I wanted to go out with Brad, but he’d already gone out and left his cellie at his parents’ house, so I was gonna settle for drinkign with Clay and BradC but then we watched ‘Mullholland Drive’ instead, in fast forward cos ti was so fucking awful and boring and we just wanted the lesbian scenes. It was boring.

Man, I look so fucking hot tonight, someone should have saved me from the monotony, even if staying home meant drinking skky vodka.

But oooh, what a way to go – so peaceful, you’re smiling…

So, chances are, I have let down someone a huge big lot. I have gone back on my word and failed to deliver something that I promised to deliver, although I had a month to deliver it in. So I’m sitting here drinking a dry martini with a twist and wondering if this makes me an evil person. Chances are, this may be the first time you’ve heard me talking about this particular writing task, which should give you some indication of how willign I was to do it if I wouldn’t even talk about it in my journal. I’ve had a growing sense of unease about my unwillingness to do this, and finally I realised that there was no way in hell that I would be willing to put my name to such a substandard piece of work, and so I had to resign – the day before it was due. Yeah, I should have done it earlier, so that it wouldn’t have been one of the things making my time in Welly so crap, knowing that I should have been writing that story. Arrrgh. I hate disappointing people; I know how shitty I get when someone lets me down.

So can we change the subject? I had my induction course this morning, or the first half of it anyways. In our break i talked to a vaguely cute guy with an English accent, but then I realised that the conductor had pointed out that we were all Level 5 or below payscale (ie under 51k) so what would the point be in hooking up with him? I think I must break out my gold digger styles and find someone to keep me in the style I’ve become accustomed to. Of course, before you start imagine me to be too stylish and cool, I must point out that I am wearing Sellotape ® fingerless gloves that Karen gave me, and since they’re fingerless, they make me feel like a bonafide Ruffian. Unity were given them, apparently, for buying so much product, so of course they were given to me. Several staff members growled Bear-Like at me last time I went in. Apparently I’m famous. Ooooh just while I remember – Nushka – congratulations! And also, you should consider the name Berrin. Or Joanna. Thank you.

Since my induction course was in a building on the corner’o my street (my organisation employs 5000 people, apparently, and is spread all over Auckland, and if you still can’t guess who I work for, obviously you’re a crap stalker), i went home for a half hour nap at lunchtime, then went in to my regular office afterwards. The day trickled by fairly slowly after I dealt with the 64 emails that had accumulated in my box whilst I’d been away (and meanwhile my REAL email account stays pretty much empty.

In the evening, Justin came over for cups of lemongrass and ginger tea, and catch up chats <!– he said stuff about the boy, like how he was cool if you kept him at a distance, and he was so right, and as I was explaining to him why I didn’t like the boy anymore, I finally realised that i totally made the right decision, so that felt weird, but good.  Also, as a side point,it really fucked me off that Clay was there trying to talk as well, cos lord knows it’s hard enough to get a word in edgeways with Justin as it is.–>. He brought me back a Jakarta Post from Bali, which is cool cos I dig overseas media. Plus apparently someone (KATEH!) told him that his other friend, is the fourth in a series of boys with the same names, so he was talking about him as *IV too, which was really amusing, cos people shouldn’t use nicknames that you have for other people, if you know what I mean. It’s like my dad calling KateH “Popular Kate”, and Mum talking about “Fatty”. Okay, well so maybe it’s cool.

Three days or so til I bleed, which is good cos then I will hopefully stop being so unseasonably grumpy and meatcraving. Also, if you notice that my personality seems to change over the coming months, please do let me know – I am a little worried about being on the pill again, cos I don’t want that femulen psychosis back. However, I have yet to lose my sex drive, so it could be that I have nothing to worry about.

Today is my birthday, my 22nd to be exact. Any and all of you who haven’t seen me, called, txted or email suck. That’s right, ALL of you. So there.

Work was long but hey, I was weraing my pretty new skirt so at least I looked good.

Evening was Bopha and Berrin which apparently means Little Bear so I love him yelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and breaking like mad as soon as I walked in the door which was a little scary.

Evening was dinner on the pillows at Caravan Serai with Bopha and Jezza and Renee and Maree and KateH and James and KateM and Jody, and oh my god that was so cool apart from getting locked in a toilet stall and having to take the lock off with a knife as an alternative to climbing over the roof into the dust and air vents to get out, but maybe we’ll write about that when we’re soberer, cos I’m actually reaaaaaaally sleep so I migth go sleep and write up an inventory tomorrow. I had a kickass birthday, and it would only have been cooler if You had called. Ha, who’s that You? You all are, maybe. Also, I’m worried that you’re not going to email me again, after my last letter to you which I guess was a suggestion that you shouldn’t, but that’s not really what I want, it’s just what is obviously for the best. But fuck the best! I want the rest! Anji says I should go and leave the boy another note with my number and see if he wants to have coffee, but I’m so not even sure that I wanna see him, I think I just want SOMEONE to fancy. Meh. Think about it tomorrow? For now bed looks all warm and soft and stuff. ANd there’s no one left to drink with cos everyone’s gone to bed and I almost fell asleep in Bopha’s when I wenmt to wake her up for the soccer which she’s not even going to watch (I’m in shock). Yeah, so I’m cold and drunk and mostly really happy, bed would be good here.

Hey, do you think I’m grown up now? We’ll see. xojo.

PS – Did I mention that I set myself on fire yesterday? Whoops!

So I was meant to be able to say one down, three to go, but I’m still not entirely sure. And then maybe it’s a different one down, or none at all. Meh.

Bops asked Emma to move out this morning, and she totally understood, and was perfectly lovely about it, so it’s all good, we’re on excellent terms and she’s still gonna come and hang out all the time, so I’m happy. Everyone needs their space. And I didn’t have to be too much of the bad guy.

Then I went to Newmarket to have lunch with JeremE, so that was cool cos I hadn’t seen him in a while. It wasn’t that sunny outside, but my shoes were feeling really comfortable so I walked home, and I’m so glad that I did, because it was a really really nice walk. I just laughed lots when the wind nearly blew me over. Also, because I was passing, I went into work to see about my pay which hasn’t gone through (ha! call me a procrastinator will you?) and Terri said she’d chase it up for me and told me when she first started hers hadn’t gone through for a month. Eeek. Other highlights of my walk included kinda passing by where *IV lives, and I was really hoping I’d bump into him, but I didn’t, so oh well. (And no, that’s not me being a stalker because as has been previously stated, he lives right next door to my place’o work, thank you very much).

So I went home and discovered that Bopha had been drinking coffee all morning, as had I, so we were both completely mad and screamed a lot and she did some breaking and also some Kung Fu poses with her pom poms to Pluto before she completely crashed out (Have I mentioned lately how good all of redlightsyndrome is? It’s FUCKING good. Go buy it). I crashed out with her cos she has smurf pillowslips and did my best to drive her mad with a continuous loop of “Bopha what should I do? _ or _ ? or _? Or blah blah blah rah rah rah it’s all about me and Tom says _ but KateB would say _ and I can’t go with my instincts because I don’t know what my instincts are” until she threatened to steal my cellphone, get all the necessary numbers out of it and sort my life out for me. I actually kinda wish she would. Other people got text messages or emails with the same whinings contained within, only more abridged. Online now, Tom’s like “What would CJ do?” because I think we all know that she’s my role model (You know, CJ from the West Wing. I want Allison Janney to play me in my movie, so she’s gonna have to not get any older. I see myself as kind of a cross between CJ and the whitetrash lady she plays in ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous). But I don’t we can deal with it all this way. Ahhh my life is so trivial and silly. It’s great.

Bopha was gonna get up and go to Rasoi and was trying to tempt me to go with her, but ultimately she was too lazy so I made potato curry instead, and then Emma showed up to get us to go listen to Will spinning at Brazil but then she stayed for curry and oh my god they both went on about it so much. Apparently my Indian Potato Curry is the meaning of life and it tasted like it was cooked with love (“maybe that’s because I haven’t stopped talking about boys all fucking afternoon although love hasn’t entered the picture” – “if that’s the case Jo, you should always be thinking about boys when you’re cooking”). I stacked the kitchen (although it’s messy again now, damn Kara) and took the recycling out, and changed my bed linen because I was feeling domesticated. And now I’ve been spending far too long online, so I oughta get. I’m disturbed though – no one’s emailed me so far to ask for my address to send me birthday presents. Does that mean that you all already know where I live or what? I mean, think about how much I give to you each day with this journal. Really. Don’t you think it’s time that you gave something back? (And could I fish any more? No I really don’t think I could. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give myself a nice hard slap). Also, Daddy has booked me a ticket on the 3rd to fly down to Wellington, so he is cool.

Repeat after me: free stuff is good. Awhile ago, Clayton got a postcard in the mail inviting him to the preview of ‘About a Boy’ (you know, Nick Hornby & Hugh Grant type thing etc etc) which promised food and liquor before hand as well. Clay wasn’t home at the time, so I texted him with the hypothetical question “Hey, if you should ever get free tickets to ‘About a Boy’ would you take me?” and of course, he stupidly said yes he would, so I presented him with the card when he got home. Ha. It made me laugh a lot at the time, because just the day before, i’d explained to him that generally when girls ask for things, they already know if it’s possible or not (ie: “Clay, can I borrow a half a tomato?” “Sure, there’s one in the fridge” “yes I know, that’s why I want to borrow it” etc). So anyways, that movie was today.

But if we want to veer back in time, we’ll start at the start of my day, which was some time after noon, because my bed was just so damn comfy, and also I’d been up late talking on the phone to my Attention Seeking best friend in Chch (I swear, I’m so defensive lionness with cubs eh). I think it’s so important that there are people that i can say “I mango bleach” to and worry about The Hot Potato Syndrome and they know what I’m talking about. Plus our new insult for one another is “hey, stop attention seeking” which is funny if you know the context and potentially offensive if you’re the person I got it off, but hey it actually really offended me, so there. (And I think I tried to say that in person, but I’m always so much better at bitching about it after the fact). Anyways, so where was I? Oh yeah, day at home, doing housework. I cleaned my room! You can actually see all the concrete now, which is not necessarily a good thing. And I divided my notes up into their three topics, which is half way to starting studying, isn’t it? I don’t have an exam for a week though. Blah blah.

Around 5, Clay and I walked to Newmarket for the movie thing. He mentioned that Kara would probably be really pissed off that he’d taken me and I chuckled more that was polite but oh well. Then my arch on my right foot got really really sore, so I guess that was my punishment. The free food and liquor was at Lonestar, and there were masses and masses of people so it took ages to get a drink, meaning Clay and I only managed three each in the 45 minutes that we were there. The food consisted mostly of tortillas and dip. Waiters kept walking past with plates of ribs which we wanted, but they got put on other tables and we couldn’t be bothered getting up. Some nice ladies came along and tried to pick up Clay, and he felt all special cos he knew lots of people there from his work. I should stop laughing at him so much. The theatre was also really full so we had to sit too close, but the movie was really good. Hugh Grant is getting hotter as he gets older, which is disturbing, and the kid was so cute! I want a 12 year old son. (hmm, i should have been more sexually active in 1990 and not been concentrating on getting Mum to buy me Subway shoes and a peace necklace I guess).

After the movie, we went and got Burger King, which I instantly regretted and took a bus home. Bops and Leo were sitting in the lounge patiently suffering through Buffy because I was taping it (hey man, she’s coming back from the dead!) but as soon as it was over, Clay watched the soccer that he’d taped and I made lots of phonecalls to arrange my birthday dinner. I wanted to have it at Saigon, but they’re shut on Mondays so I’m having it at a Turkish place instead. Then I rang around trying to organise my friends, most of whom didn’t answer their phones – kate & kate, I’m looking at you here. I did manage to get aholdo Justin, who said he might come, and then we talked about Brand JK reliability, which is amusing. It’s where I do most of my shopping – so I put in a pre-order as well. Ha, fuck I’m terrible. And boring.

I put the wrong link in to my birthday wishlist last night, but it just occured to me that i have to say “Hey, if you’re my friend, and you’ve had a birthday this year, and I have been to your celebration, I hope you haven’t bought me anything, because I didn’t buy you anything and I would feel (a little)bad”. See, I do have a conscience after all. Last night while I was lying in bed I realised that when work finally DOES pay me, it won’t be the one week’s salary I was expecting, it’ll be FOUR weeks, and that’s kinda really cool. OH MY GOD! THEY PAID ME! I HAVE A POSTIVE BANK BALANCE! I haven’t had one of those since i left Foodstuffs. I can pay the rent, AND the phonebill now. I can even have a good birthday, and I can buy KateH drinks tomorrow night when we go out (except that you try so hard to not talk to me about reading my journal, so you can’t ask for them so HA!). And I can ring up WINZ and cancel the $50 a week they lend me which they’ll be cancelling in a couple of weeks anyways cos I will no longer be doing enough papers to qualify as a full time student, although apparently there’s something else I can be wot says I still qualify. Sorry. It’s just really exciting.

And that’s about me for the night, eh. My neck really hurts from that damn sitting too close to the movie thing. Maybe I should have a hot bath. I wonder if that’d help me sleep. It’s funny taking herbal supplements to make me sleep because they completely relax out my body so that it feels really heavy and sinks into the mattress and I can hardly move but my mind is still going a trillion miles an hour. I’m due for a bleed in a couple of days, and I’d know that even if wasn’t for the diane35 packet telling me. Midcycle I get mad protein cravings, and then I get sleepless and my breasts get fuller and look glassy and probably in two days time I will be really really sad and cry at the drop of the hat. It’s so interesting (to me anyways) watching myself change. Go womanhood. I bet you’re all just holding your breath until I get pregnant or some mysterious wasting disease and I write about that in great length every single day. Not that I’m thinking that any of you would wish disease on me, of course (because hey, everyone loves me, right?).

I thought of a new look for Hubris that I wanna do, but I have exams and secret things and charity work and momma’s site (still) to do first. But then maybe there’ll be a logo! And tshirts! And merchandise! And branding! Perhaps.